


and i will see you in the spring

by rabbitprint



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dementia, Gen, Memory Loss, art therapy, word count limit: 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitprint/pseuds/rabbitprint
Summary: Spoilers through 5.1 MSQ. Long before the fall of Amaurot, Altima must deal with other forms of loss.
Relationships: Altima & Altima (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Ktísis: A Final Fantasy XIV Fanzine





	and i will see you in the spring

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for the April 2020 edition of Ktísis: A Final Fantasy XIV Fanzine, word count limit (2 pages/~1k words)._   
> 

The lights were already on when Altima climbed to the proper floor, stifling her yawns behind her fingers. Many of the patients were still awake from the night before, heeding their own clocks and rhythms. She paused before the door -- reading the aetheric currents in case of any unannounced distress -- and dissolved her mask, reshaping it as a plain, white shell.

After knocking, she smoothed her robes down and waited for the call to enter before stepping within. "How are you feeling today, Galene?"

The woman inside was already bent over a broad worktable, her fingers splayed over three sketches at once, flitting between them erratically. "Busy!" she laughed back, a broad grin creasing her face. "Always, _always_ busy. There aren't enough bells in a single sun to contain it all." She straightened up gaily, pushing back her hair in rumpled, hectic waves. "I ought to do that. Change time, I mean. I'm certain there was a blueprint for that in here _somewhere._ Have you seen it, Xenia? Now, where did it go -- "

Altima offered a careful smile in return; the door clicked shut as she swung it closed behind her. "Until you come across it," she suggested mildly, walking into the room and reaching up towards the ceiling to pull awake the aether, "do you think you have time to work on your memory constellation with me?"

Luckily enough, the star globes were still in order from Altima's last visit, their connections undisturbed. Each palm-sized orb recorded a moment in time, cradling entire landscapes in miniature: days remembered, conversations long past, triumphs and sorrows and celebrations intermingling freely. Many of the spheres already held some of Galene's favorite concepts, the ones she had been most proud of during her career. Within the glossy crystals, trees ambled from place to place, setting down their roots to follow specific undergrowth needs. Scaled hawks hunted through the mountains, shedding metallic feathers to facilitate the spread of seed pollination. Mural paintings mimicked the changing of seasons, altering their own pigments to turn from summer to fall, and then into snow. Individually, the designs were scattered bursts of creativity, erratic as errant sparks; together, they wove the story of an entire legacy of inspiration, a solid framework which now glittered on the air as art.

It was hard work. Galene's stars were arranged in the design of a winged woman rising out of a flower, petals and feathers mixing in her wake. Though they had managed to fill out both arms and some of the face, there were still several thousand years left to go. At times, Galene would confidently mark a particular chain of events -- only to correct herself in the next sentence, splitting the stars back out again and restringing them in fragmented arrays. Altima had been able to sketch out the initial chronological framework through the Capitol's records -- awards given, debates recorded -- but until Galene could grasp it on her own, the constellation would be little better than pictures upon a wall, fancies that would drift away with no ground to moor them.

After half a morning, they finally managed to pin down one of Galene's concepts for regional temperature moderation, using the natural migration of certain birds to affect the wind currents being traveled upon. As Galene described the route that her inspiration had taken, the aether in Altima's hands unfolded in rainbow streams, until a flock of jeweled geese took wing as one, bursting from her palms towards an illusionary sky.

In that moment as the translucent birds wheeled overhead, Altima thought she finally saw a flicker of clarity in the woman's eyes. She held her breath -- but Galene was already frowning, shaking her head in refusal. "No, no, it's not quite right. That's all out of order. All _wrong_." Scowling, the woman rubbed her long fingers against her temples, making exasperated noises under her breath as she struggled. Finally, she pushed the stars away entirely; rainbows strobed across the walls as the spheres swayed and bounced together, scattering like marbles in the air. "It's time for the morning meeting, isn't it? Emet-Selch will never let me hear the end of it if I keep missing them. My mask, I need to create my _mask_ \-- "

"The Convocation meetings are on hold for now," Altima claimed, reaching out to lay a soothing hand on the other woman's shoulder first. "You don't have to worry, Galene. There's no need to rush. Here in Amaurot, there is always enough time."

But the moment of awareness hadn't vanished entirely. Rather than resume her fretting, Galene directed the sharpness of her glance at Altima next, a hint of her former keenness shining through. "You may say such a thing, but we've met before, have we not? Not _here_ ," she added impatiently, flapping a hand at her quarters. "But elsewhere in the Capitol."

Altima felt her stomach lurch, hope bubbling up unexpectedly even as she tried not to fall prey to it. "We have. It was... a very important time for us both. You entrusted me with something irreplaceable on that day." Despite her self-control, the aether lingering in her grasp shimmered in response, attempting to obey the emotions that rushed forth from her own memories. She managed not to let it manifest completely, but fresh colors bloomed around them anyway: a haze of blues and golds that seeped throughout the room, a clear sky, a bright sun. The cheers of the crowd. She could still feel the shape of the mask as it was placed in her hands. She could still see the other woman's smile. "On that day, you said to me, ' _every dream must exist for the sake of our future generations. That is why we dream at all._ '"

But the rest of the light had already dimmed out of Galene's face, crowded out by millions of other memories which fought for illumination first. "I'm sorry," the woman confessed. "I don't remember. There are too many other things to keep track of, concepts I need to -- I need to finish. I must recover quickly, so I can resume my work. Where _did_ that canine template go..."

Breathing out carefully, Altima let her hold on the aether go slack, sweeping it away before it could agitate Galene further. Patience was her armor; she refused to trade it for despair. Above them, the star constellation shone with all the brilliance of a vast, rich life, bearing concepts which beckoned to the imagination even now -- as they had once inspired a young girl who had marveled at a tide of endless diamond wings rushing past, and who had whispered to herself, _I want to make those too, someday_.

"Take all the time you need, Galene," she repeated softly. "Amaurot will always be here, waiting for you to return -- and so will I."


End file.
